


THE BLESSED-DAMOZEL 

D, G. ROSSETTI 



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THE 

Blessed Damozel 


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BY 

Dante Gabriel Rossetti 


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Printed at Y* Palmetto Press 
wch is in Aiken, South Caro- 
lina, in the year MCM. 


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HE blessed damozel leaned out 
From the gold bar of Heaven : 
Her eyes were deeper than the 
depth 
Of waters stilled at even ; 
She had three lilies in her hand, 
And the stars in her hair 
were seven. 

Her robe, ungirt from clasp to 
hem, 
No wrought flowers did adorn, 
But a white rose of Mary's gift. 

For service meetly worn ; 
Her hair that lay along her 
back 
Was yellow like ripe corn. 



THE BLESSED DAMOZEL 



Herseemed she scarce had been a day 
One of God's choristers; 

The wonder was not yet quite gone 
From that still look of hers : 

Albeit, to them she left, her day 
Had counted as ten years. 



(To one, it is ten years of years. 

. . . Yet now, and in this place, 
Surely she leaned o*er me — her hair 

Fell all about my face. . . . 
Nothing : the autumn fall of leaves. 

The whole year sets apace.) 



THE BLESSED DAMOZEL 



It was the rampart of God's house 

That she was standing on : 
By God built over the sheer depth 

The which is Space begun ; 
So high, that looking downward thence 

She scarce could see the sun. 



It lies in Heaven, across the flood 

Of ether, as a bridge. 
Beneath, the tides of day and night 

With flame and darkness ridge 
The void, as low as where this earth 

Spins like a fretful midge. 



THE BLESSED DAMOZEL 



Around her, lovers, newly met 
'Mid deathless love's acclaims, 

Spoke evermore among themselves 
Their heart-remembered names ; 

And the souls mounting up to God 
Went by her like thin flames. 



And still she bowed herself and stooped 

Out of the circling charm ; 
Until her bosom must have made 

The bar she leaned on warm, 
And the lilies lay as if asleep 

Along her bended arm. 



THE BLESSED DAMOZEL 
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From the fixed place of Heaven she saw 

Time like a pulse shake fierce 
Through all the worlds. Hergaze still strove 

Within the gulf to pierce 
Its path ; and now she spoke as when 

The stars sang in their spheres. 



The sun was gone now; the curled moon 

Was like a little feather 
Fluttering far down the gulf ; and now 

She spoke through the still weather. 
Her voice was like the voice the stars 

Had when they sang together. 



THE BLESSED DAMOZEL 
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(Ah sweet ! Even now, in that bird's song, 

Strove not her accents there, 
Fain to be hearkened ? When those bells 

Possessed the midday air. 
Strove not her steps to reach my side 

Down all the echoing stair?) 



« I wish that he were come to me. 

For he will come,» she said. 
« Have I not prayed in Heaven ? — on earth, 

Lord, Lord, has he not prayed ? 
Are not two prayers a perfect strength ? 

And shall I feel afraid ? 



THE BLESSED DAMOZEL 



« When round his head the aureole clings, 

And he is clothed in white, 
I'll take his hand and go with him 

To the deep wells of light ; 
As unto a stream we will step down, 

And bathe there in God's sight. 



« We two will stand beside that shrine. 

Occult, withheld, untrod, 
Whose lamps are stirred continually 

With prayer sent up to God ; 
And see our old prayers, granted, melt 

Each like a little cloud. 



THE BLESSED DAMOZEL 



« We two will lie i' the shadow of 

That living mystic tree 
Within whose secret growth the Dove 

Is sometimes felt to be, 
While every leaf that His plumes touch 

Saith His Name audibly. 



«And I myself will teach to him, 

I myself, lying so. 
The songs I sing here ; which his voice 

Shall pause in, hushed and slow. 
And find some knowledge at each pause, 

Or some new thing to know.» 



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THE BLESSED DAMOZEL 
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(Alas ! We two, we two, thou say'st ! 

Yea, one wast thou with me 
That once of old. But shall God lift 

To endless unity 
The soul whose likeness with thy soul 

Was but its love for thee ?) 



« We two,)> she said, « will seek the groves 

Where the Lady Mary is. 
With her five handmaidens, whose names 

Are five sweet symphonies, 
Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen, 

Margaret and Rosalys. 



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THE BLESSED DAMOZEL 



« Circlewise sit they, with bound locks 

And foreheads garlanded ; 
Into the fine cloth white like flame 

Weaving the golden thread, 
To fashion the birth-robes for them 

Who are just born, being dead. 



« He shall fear, haply, and be dumb ; 

Then will I lay my cheek 
To his, and tell about our love. 

Not once abashed or weak : 
And the dear Mother will approve 

My pride, and let me speak. 



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THE BLESSED DAMOZEL 



« Herself shall bring us, hand in hand, 
To Him round whom all souls 

Kneel, the clear-ranged unnumbered heads 
Bowed with their aureoles : 

And angels meeting us shall sing 
To their citherns and citoles. 



« There will I ask of Christ the Lord 
Thus much for him and me :— 

Only to live as once on earth 
With Love,— only to be. 

As then awhile, forever now 
Together, I and he.» 



THE BLESSED DAMOZEL 



She gazed and listened, and then said, 
Less sad of speech than mild, — 

«A11 this is when he comes.)) She ceased. 
The light thrilled towards her, filled 

With angels in strong level flight. 
Her eyes prayed, and she smiled. 



(I saw her smile.) But soon their path 
Was vague in distant spheres : 

And then she cast her arms along 
The golden barriers. 

And laid her face between her hands, 
And wept. (I heard her tears.) 



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So here endeth the poem The Blessed Damozel 
as written by D. G. Rossetti, the title page 
and initial being designed by Miss Annie T. 
Colcock ; with a photogravure of the Picture : 
done into a booklet by W. L. Washburn, at 
Ye Palmetto Press which is in Aiken, South 
Carolina, in the month of November and the 
year MCM c^ 



LIMITED EDITION 

Of this edition Five hundred copies 
have been printed on Whatman paper, 
those numbered from 1 to 100 being 
illuminated in water colors. This is 



NOV 15 19Q2 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 

' ' '"Illill 




014 525 280 5 0' 



